Help in Unexpected Places
by StarWarrior72
Summary: Mere months after the events of The Empire Strikes Back, Luke is saved in a bar by a scruffy looking stranger. A man who knows a great deal more about his family, if Luke is only willing to dig a little deeper. This is a collaboration project with Talicor, wherein I wrote Luke, and she wrote Vader. Please check out her stories!


I step back, away from the thugs. I'm still not totally sure what I did to upset them, but MAN did it ever upset them. Three of the four of them have weapons, and the fourth guy looks like he could crack my skull like a nut with his bare hands, "Leave me alone," I say. The first guy swings a punch at me, and I just barely duck in time.

Two more of them send punches my way, and I duck the first, but the second hits me full in the face, having been aimed for my stomach. I stumble backwards, trying to stem the flow of blood from my nose, holding up my free hand protectively, "Stop!"

Suddenly, someone pushes me away, but not roughly. I don't struggle, glad to be a bit further from the fight, wishing they hadn't had me surrender my weapon at the door. I just need a couple of seconds to focus, and then I'll be fine.

"Who're you," grunts Nutcracker as I stumble back into the wall, protecting my face with my prosthetic hand.

"Oh, no one really," the stranger says in an offhand tone, "Just a middle aged gentleman that doesn't appreciate you buffoons beating on someone only half their size."

"That right," Nutcracker grunts as the two of the others slip past to grab me, hitting me again as I hear Nutcracker have a go at my saviour.

Blindly, I swing a punch at one of them, and I hear a loud grunt as I realize that I've used my right hand. I'm still not used to how strong it is… I hope I haven't hurt him too badly.

The stranger doesn't seem to be doing too badly, though. Nutcracker hasn't been able to land a hit on him, and as I finally manage to land a good kick on one of my attackers, I hear a gruesome pop. A moment later, the two thugs who were on top of me are gone, and I look up at the stranger, who's knocked them out, and tossed them aside like it's nothing.

He's dressed in an odd fashion, his long coat completely hiding the strength he _obviously_ has, considering he'd just scooped two massive thugs off me like it was nothing. His hair is somewhat long, and tousled, but also filled with what looks like motor oil. He's got a slightly manic expression, and I know there's more to him than meets the eye.

"Thanks," I pant, "Where's the last one?"

Immediately, the whole bar is bristling with makeshift weapons. I take a step back, trying to put space between me and the other patrons, but the stranger only smiles strangely.

"Why hello, gentlemen! Come for a fight?" he asks, almost playfully, grabbing me by the front of my shirt.

"Hey now!" I splutter, but he swings me up towards the ceiling, and I find myself placed on a massive hanging chandelier.

I grab on to the chain suspending it from the ceiling just in time, as the wave of bar patrons crashes over the stranger at that moment, rocking the whole room. Looking down, I manage to find the centre of the mayhem, the stranger, sending more of the thugs flying. Who _is_ this guy?

I watch the fight helplessly for a moment before snatching a blaster from a thug's holster, setting it to stun, and starting to fire on the mob. I guess some people are allowed to have weapons after all.

The stranger is still fighting furiously, unconscious and stunned thugs littering the floor, but he seems to be enjoying himself. Until he pauses for a moment, that is. One of the thugs leaps on the opportunity, and smashes his face with a crowbar.

Before I realize what I've done, the blaster's safety is off, and there's a hole in the attacker, "Stang," I swear softly. I hadn't meant to kill anyone, but that had been brutal…

The stranger looks up at me, blinking slowly, and I drop down from the chandelier, "Are you okay?"

"Are YOU okay?" he asks, looking at me strangely, "You should be careful around here... Bars are no place for one such as you to be."

"One such as me?" I ask, hurt. I'm startled to realize that his eyes are mismatched, one blue, the other practically glowing yellow.

He nods, "You are a Rebel... And this is Imperial Center," an offhand wave around the bar, "Really not a safe place for you anywhere on here."

"Yeah, well," I look down towards my boots awkwardly, but suddenly spot gashes on his arms, bleeding pretty badly. Bleeding black blood.

"What are you doing here anyway?" he asks, and I don't have to look back at his face to know he's narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"I was TRYING to get some information," I defend as my nose starts dripping blood again, and I hold my sleeve up to cover it.

He shakes his head exasperatedly and passes me a filthy napkin off of one of the tables that hadn't been knocked over during the fight.

"That's a dangerous game to play with Lord Vader on planet," he chuckles, looking at me with an expression of concern.

"Tell me about it," I sigh, looking at the blood, "I thought I'd be best off in a lawless bar. You'd think if the Empire's had this much trouble getting rid of me, a few thugs couldn't do it on a whim."

"I didn't think that Luke Skywalker could get into trouble so quickly," he says, absently, "But then I remembered whose child you are, and stepped in."

My blood runs cold as he mentions my father, and I pinch my nose harder, "I'm my own idiot, thanks."

"I take it you don't agree with your father," he says, "Would it surprise you if I told you he was just as much of a trouble magnet as you when he was young?"

"No," I answer stubbornly.

He chuckles again, and I start to feel distinctly belittled, "Is it because of Bespin you don't like him?"

"Yeah," I answer, before freezing, "How would you know about that?"

"I have my sources," he looks at me oddly, "And I can tell you're unsettled by my appearance."

"Yeah, well, you look like you're bleeding oil," I snap, "You've also got a demon eye."

"So, you noticed," he smiles again, although sadly this time, and I feel a bit guilty, "I wouldn't quite consider it a _demon_ eye, though."

I shake my head, "Sorry, I'm just all messed up right now."

"Aren't we all?" he asks gently, "Come on, I'll take you to my place."

"Ah-," I hesitate, "I'm not sure…"

"You'd rather stay here?" he waves his hand at the bodies again, "I guarantee that they won't be out forever."

"Good point," I say, "Fine."

"I won't bite," he laughs again, taking my shoulder in his hand with unnecessary strength and steering me towards the door.

"How long have you been on planet?" he asks, leading me out into the rain. The bar's in a really bad part of town, which was why I chose it, but which should've also warned me of how rough it would be inside.

"Only a couple hours," I say, taking the napkin away from my face and stuffing it in my pocket, the bleeding having stopped.

"And just what info were you trying to get on such a dangerous planet?" he asks, dragging a gloved hand through ridiculously matted hair.

"Just stuff about the Empire. Black Sun. You know, stuff that threatens the Alliance."

"Don't they have intelligence operatives for that kind of stuff?" he looks at me questioningly, kicking some garbage into the piles at the side of the walkway.

"Yeah, well, once they both had massive bounties on my head, I got personally involved," I grin.

"You are definitely your father's child," he grins, shaking his head.

I feel myself starting to close to him again, and look away, annoyed that he'd brought up Vader again, but he seems to realize his mistake, patting my shoulder before moving off a bit.

"Sorry, touchy subject for you.. My apologies."

"It's fine," I mumble, still not looking at him.

"No, it's not," he sighs, "I overstepped my boundaries."

I laugh weakly, looking back at him, "Like you know me well enough to know all my quirks."

"I get the feeling we are similar in a few aspects," he shrugs, "It helps that you are really easy to read, too."

"Huh," I answer, looking around, "Glad that your place isn't in that Hutt pit."

He shrugs again, "It's a pretty okay place... View isn't bad either."

He glances around suddenly, and gestures to a dark tunnel mouth, almost covertly.

"Hey, we can duck in here, there's a few connecting tunnels to my place through here."

I swerve into the dark tunnel, and immediately trip on something. As I fall, my hands flail for something, anything, to catch myself, and I'm surprised and embarrassed to find the stranger's hand in mine as I smash to the pavement anyhow.

"Whoa there!" he says tightly, releasing my hand suddenly, "One heck of a grip you got there!"

"Oh, no," I say, "I didn't… break any bones, did I?"

"Bones?" Even in the dark, I can see his stilted smile as he pulls off his glove, clicking an ancient prosthetic, "What bones?"

"Oh, good," I sigh.

"Haven't they taught you how to adjust the strength?" he asks.

"What?" I ask, "You can do that?"

"Uh, yeah?" he answers, somewhat incredulously, "Even my prosthetics can be adjusted, and I'm still sporting Clone Wars tech!"

"Show me!" I demand, tugging back my sleeve to show the full length of the prosthetic.

He rolls his eyes and takes my arm gently in his hand.

"Sorry if my fingers are a bit cold," he murmurs thoughtfully, running his metal fingers along my arm before opening the maintenance hatch.

"See those little pistons in there? They control the strength of your grip and such... All you need to do is turn that larger screw clockwise for strength, and the other way for the opposite effect."

"Thank you," I say fervently, "Thank you so, so much."

"No problem," he shrugs, opening up a panel on his own arm, showing me a single piston, looking odd, filling up almost all of the cavity, "They've become much easier to adjust in recent years after switching to the multi-piston system."

"Makes sense," I nod, closing mine back up and pulling the sleeve back down, "I wish you'd been around sooner after it happened. Turns out crushing things by accident can get me in even more trouble than I'm usually in."

"Oh, I know that feeling," he smirks, "All too well."

He closes his own arm, and waves me onward, "Turn here, we'll be descending for a bit to reach my place."

"Down?" I sigh, "It only gets worse down."

"Some things are more than they appear," he says sagely, "You never know what secrets you'll find if you but dig a little deeper."

"Yeah, well," I say, looking down the staircase we've arrived at, "Secrets down there are usually pretty dangerous."

"You'll be fine," he promises, starting down the stairs, "It's not far."

I shrug, and go down into the dark stairwell, "Remind me again why I'm following you?"

"I saved your life?" he looks back up at me with a playful smile, his mismatched yellow eye glowing.

I grin, "Oh, right."

"Exactly," he climbs onto the railing, and slides down through the darkness.

I jump the last few stairs and land next to him, "This is quite a complicated way to get home. Aren't there any seedy bars closer to where you live?"

"I like to cover my tracks," he answers, continuing through the damp, dark tunnel.

I shrug, "I'd be a hypocrite to argue with that."

"Figured you'd understand," he winks, leading me into a better lit street, "Is there anything you want to ask of me while we're walking?"

"Ask? Nothing really. Although… There is one thing…"

"Oh?" he tips his head, looking at me.

"Ugh," I sigh, "This is going to sound really strange…"

"Go ahead," he encourages, "Strange is the least of my worries."

"Could I stay at your place for the night? I was in that bar because some Imperials spotted me where I'd left my ship, and I can hardly rent a room here."

"Of course!" he laughs kindly, "It's not like I'd drag you all the way to my place just to kick you out!"

"Thanks," I smile, "I'll also need to contact my droid. He tends to freak out."

"Astro droid, I take it?" he looks at me, easily leaping a discarded length of pipe.

"Yeah," I follow him, "You're pretty used to dingy alleys, aren't you?"

"Comes with the lifestyle," he shrugs good-naturedly, "Lived on Tatooine for nine years before training with the Jedi. The Clone Wars involved a lot of tunnel crawling and such."

"You were a Jedi?" I ask, surprised. I thought Vader'd killed of the Jedi, but I'm hardly going to argue with finding another. It would be great to get some advice from a Jedi who doesn't feel the need to lecture me constantly.

"Mhm," he nods, "Those were some rather interesting years, I admit."

"Would you teach me a bit about…" I trail off, realizing a more accurate question, "Would you come back to the Alliance with me?"

"The Alliance?!" he looks at me, clearly startled, "Kid, I'm not a Jedi anymore."

"But you could be again!" I say eagerly, "Why not?"

"I-I" he stutters, "I've burnt too many bridges."

I laugh, "Please, the Empire burned all the bridges they could find. If you saved them the trouble, no one'll blame you."

He shakes his head, "Heh... No... No, they wouldn't want me."

"Of course they would! Do you know what they'd GIVE for another Jedi?"

"I'm sure they'd do just about anything," he shrugs, kicking at trash again, "But I'm not a Jedi."

"But you have all the potential, AND the skills!" I argue.

"And just what skills do you believe me to posses?" he looks at me disbelievingly.

"It's the way you move!" I enthuse, "The way you dealt with those idiots in the bar! And you said you were a JEDI! A full-fledged Jedi, not just a trainee like me!"

"I admire your spirit, little one," he sighs, patting my shoulder affectionately, "But..." he sighs, stepping away.

"But WHAT?" I ask, still hopeful, "It's perfect!"

He meets my gaze, and a thousand emotions swim in his mismatched eyes. I could swear I can see his entire thought process in his face.

"I'm afraid I've made too many mistakes for that to work out."

"You can't have," I argue, but his tone, and the hopelessness in his face, have dampened my hope.

He seems embarrassed, looking down at his scuffed boots.

"So, you said you needed to contact your astromech?" he asks suddenly.

"Yeah, but," he casts another lost glance at me, and I drop it, taking my com link from my belt.

He withdraws sadly as I speak distractedly to Artoo, continuing to walk.

"Thanks, Artoo," I finish, "Sorry."

Hanging up, I turn back to the stranger, "You haven't even told me your name."

"Oh?" he asks, startled, as though he'd been lost in thought,"Uh, it's not important.."

I laugh, "You're letting me stay over, but you don't want to tell me your name?"

"You can call me... Nik," he says finally, "After all these years, I've had a hard time sharing much personal info."

I nod, "That's reasonable."

"We're here," he waves a hand at a door, and shows me in.

I step in, and find myself in an unadorned grey hallway, "Home sweet home."

"Very much so," he sighs, and I detect a definite hint of sadness, "From here we can take the lift to see that view I was telling you about."

"All right," I say, following him down the hallway.

He starts to shift awkwardly, apparently unsure how to deal with having a guest, and pushes me a bit more hurriedly into a lift, where he presses the button for a top floor a good couple dozen floors above us.

I look at the command panel, "Wow, your place is HUGE!"

"Heh..." he shrugs, his cheeks tinged uncharacteristically pink, "Told ya it was a decent place and you didn't need to worry."

"Honestly, at this point I wouldn't've cared if you lived in an abandoned hanger," I sigh tiredly.

"And judging by my choice of clothing, that is probably what you'd assumed, yes?" he asks, sounding as tired as I feel.

I laugh, "No, I've given up on trying to tell _anything_ about _anybody _based on their clothing."

He laughs, leaning against the wall.

"You know... I haven't really had a good talk with someone in a while.. Feels good."

"If you introduced yourself BEFORE the fight," I joke, "You might get more talking done."

"Psh," he scoffs good-naturedly, "Where's the fun in that? Haven't enjoyed a good bar fight since the Clone Wars."

"So you don't usually go to that bar," I grin, "I heard them counting time in fights."

"Eh," he shrugs, "I don't really drink, and typically being in bars only serves to annoy me…"

"But you were there today," I prod, "Did you sense that there would be a Jedi in trouble there?"

"You could say that," he answers, although it sounds like he knows exactly why he was there, "I wasn't exactly sure why I was there until you showed up."

I nod, "Well, thanks."

"No problem," he brushes off, the lift finally dinging as we reach our destination.

"Oh, we're here."

As the doors open, I step out automatically, and find myself so far above the majority of the buildings that my stomach turns over, "Wow, we're far up."

"One of the tallest buildings in the district," he says, almost proudly, like he wants my approval, walking over to the balcony, looking down at the ant trails of brightly coloured speeders.

I follow him, looking around, amazed, "I've never been in a building this tall. Isn't that the Imperial Palace over there?"

Suddenly, he snaps a hand at the wall, and shields crash down over the open balcony, nearly taking my fingers off.

"Why'd you do that?" I ask, confused.

"I sensed something," he answers dismissively, "After living here for so long, I've become somewhat paranoid when on the balcony."

"Oh," I sigh, looking back at the opaque walls, "It is very pretty up here."

"Pretty," he says wistfully, "But empty inside," he turns to me, shrugging away the mood, "We should see to your nose, it's pretty bruised."

"Oh," I say, remembering that I'd been punched, "It's not really that important. Not the first time."

"Still," he argues, and a med pack flies out from under the couch to his hand, "Cleaning it up can't hurt."

I shrug, taking the kit from him, and attempting to clean the remainder of the blood from my face.

"Here," he offers, "Let me do it, you're missing spots."

Grinning embarrassedly, I pass it back, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he nods absently, wiping away the blood and grime with surprising speed and ease, "I apologize for not having any mirrors around."

"Eh," I shrug, "As long as it comes off."

Making a few final swipes, he tosses the wipe into the trash.

"There, should be good for now."

"Thanks," I say, gingerly touching my nose.

He only nods, reaching back into the med pack for another wipe, starting on the black blood on his arms.

"Why is your blood black?" I ask curiously.

"It's not blood," he explains, digging at one dribble violently, "It's oil."

"Oil?" I ask, flinching at the sight, "But it's coming out of the skin on your arms too."

"Oh, heh.." he shrugs, and he starts to turn pink again, "Just got smeared around in the fight... Pretty grimy down there."

"No kidding," I grin, taking another wipe and helping.

"Yeah," he nods again, finishing up on one arm before tossing the wipe away.

"They got you pretty bad, huh?" I ask, concerned, "Do you need to fix yourself up at all?"

"Erm..." he looks appraisingly at his hands for a second, "It's nothing too bad.. Few dents and scrapes, nothing I can't patch."

"Okay," I hesitate.

He looks at me curiously, obviously having noticed my hesitation.

"I'd just feel bad if you were permanently damaged 'cause you helped me," I explain.

"I'm fine," he shakes his head again, "I've had MUCH worse."

"I guess you'd know best," I say.

"Hey, you okay?" he asks suddenly

"I'm fine," I shrug, shivering again, "I just get cold easily. It's what I get for being raised on a desert planet, I guess."

"I know how that is," he promises, loping over to a door, which he opens to reveal a nearly-empty cupboard and removing a blanket, "This should help," he sighs, passing me the blanket.

"Thanks," I say, wrapping myself in the blanket and perching on the edge of the sofa.

"You sure use that word a lot," he says, sitting down across from me.

"Well, you've been being ridiculously kind to me," I answer, beginning to fiddle with the fringe on the blanket.

"Eh," he shrugs, "That's the problem in this galaxy... No one really cares anymore."

"That's not true," I shake my head, "It's just that they usually want to know someone a bit better before inviting them into their home."

"I already know about you though," he points out, "You and I share a home planet, after all.. That blanket's all I really have left of my old life back on Tatooine."

"Huh," I say, looking down at the fringe I'd been playing with, and following the black pattern across it, "Where'd you get this from?"

"My mother," he answers simply, blinking slowly.

"Your mom?" I ask, pulling more of the blanket out from under me, realizing where I know the pattern from.

"That's what I said," he answers, moving closer to me in a way that would've seemed only interested a minute ago, but is now very threatening.

I shuffle away, "Vader."

But I'm still wrapped in the blanket, and looking into the face he's showing, I don't feel as frightened as I should. He'd saved my life. And he hadn't taken me to prison, instead bringing me home.

Just as I'm about to shift back towards him, he springs to his feet and starts pacing furiously.

"Should've known you would have figured it out sooner or later."

"What were you going to do?" I ask, somewhat derisively, utterly unnerved by the revelation, "Keep up the illusion forever? Or were you going to wait until I was asleep, and revert?"

"I was going to hold it until you were unconscious, yes," he says, and I suddenly realize all the similarities in our tones, "Very astute of you, Luke."

"And what were you going to do when I woke up?" I challenge, "Just hope I wouldn't notice?"

"I'd reinstate the illusion before you woke," he sighs, and as he meets my glare, I recognize myself in his face.

"Why?"

"Why not?" he retorts, "I didn't feel it necessary to worry you any more than need be."

"What were you going to do with me?" I ask, "How were you going to keep me prisoner without 'worrying' me?"

"Who said I was going to keep you prisoner?" he asks, the appearance of the human he'd worn shattering.

As his harsh mechanical breathing fills the room, I shiver, wrapping myself tighter in the blanket, "Well, it's obvious, isn't it?"

"Do you truly think me so predictable?" he asks lazily, his demon's eye catching me again.

"I've got no reason not to," I answer, meeting the cold glare.

"Not even saving your life today did anything to alter that perception?" he demands as he resumes prowling moodily in front of me.

"I'm not that much good to you dead, am I?" I ask angrily.

"Nor would you be of much use to the Alliance," he shoots back, his mechanical voice not betraying any emotion, "I find it upsetting that you were sent here without any backup whatsoever."

"I have a pretty good track record of surviving on my own," I snap, "I've had a lifetime's worth of_ practice._"

"You know..." he snarls, brandishing the hand he'd raised as he commanded me to join him, which is pretty badly damaged, "I once thought I was invincible too... Then Mustafar happened."

"I don't think I'm invincible!" I shout, finally standing, leaving the blanket on the couch, "But I know the Alliance has more important things to do than baby me!"

"You consider them protecting one of their only invaluable Jedi, to be coddling?" he snaps, "Even from a purely strategic viewpoint, protecting their most valuable assets is wise in the game of war."

"It's not a game!" I retort, "Is that all this is to you? One big, stupid GAME?"

"No," he snarls, "I leave THAT to the Emperor..." His mask makes an ominous hissing sound as he grips the couch back above where I'd been seated a moment before, "A warrior's lifestyle is all I've ever known."

"Yeah? What about Mom? Was she just a part of being a warrior? Having a girlfriend was just EXPECTED of you? What about ME?" I demand.

"I. Broke. The. Rules," he hisses, his gaze burning hatefully into me.

"So I'm just another of your mistakes," I realize, "I'm just one of the reasons you can never be a Jedi again."

"In the old Order, I would have been expelled for marrying your mother. But I didn't care..." he confirms, "Having a family mattered more to me than the Jedi."

"But not more than the Sith, huh?" I demand, aware I'm hurting him, but too confused and upset to care.

In a moment, he's glaring at me again, and I feel a cold shiver run down my spine.

"I was fooled into thinking the Dark Side would allow me to save your mother."

"And what about Bespin? By then you'd been proved wrong, hadn't you? Or is she here somewhere too?"

"I realized my error the day she died," he snarls harshly, "But by then, I was staggering off the surgical table, changed forever into this creature of Darkness..." The room around us starts to rattle, and I know that his lethal power is in danger of escaping, "I knew it was too late then."

"Yeah?" I ask, glaring at him, "So what happened then? You decided that if you couldn't have a family, no one could?"

"By then, after undergoing the complete trauma of all the events preceding that, I had lost myself, and closed myself off, slowly going mad from the isolation imposed by the suit," he snarls cruelly, his grip starting to crush the metal frame of the couch, "I simply quit caring."

"Oh," I say, "I see. That's just… that's just fine," I crumple down on the couch again, wrapping myself in the blanket, shutting everything else out.

Wrapping the blanket more tightly, curling up miserably, I try to sense any residual humanity in the blanket, some hint of a caring person who would have chosen his family over his life. But there's nothing there. If there ever had been… it's been washed away by Vader.

The room suddenly falls silent, Vader's breathing silenced, but I barely notice the change, clinging to the one scrap of proof he's been able to show me that Anakin ever really existed.

Through the gap between my knees, I see that he's knelt in front of me, hiding his appearance again, "Luke?"

"What?" I mumble, wrapping myself more tightly.

"I'm sorry," he sighs, and I roll my eyes up to see that he looks genuinely apologetic, "For everything. For Bespin... For leading you on like I did... For making the stupid decisions in my life that have affected you in even the slightest of ways. I am a stupid, inconsiderate man that does not deserve to even be in the same room as you."

I can only shake my head, covering my eyes again and continuing to cry.

I hear him sigh again, and he takes my wrists gently, pulling my hands away from my face to look into my eyes, "I don't ask for forgiveness, I don't ask for acceptance... I just want you to be safe and happy, and if leaving is the only way to achieve that, then I'll go." He lowers my hands back to my knees, and stands up slowly.

My response is automatic, instinctive, visceral, and absolutely embarrassing. Before I can think about it, I've wrapped my arms around him, burying my face against his chest, "Don't go."

He stiffens, and looks down at me in almost alarmed surprise, but after a moment, he gently wraps his arms around me, stroking my back slowly.

"Please don't go," I whisper, clinging tighter, afraid he'll pull away.

"Don't worry," he sighs, and I feel him gasp for air as he sits down next to me, cradling me tightly against him, "I'm not going anywhere."


End file.
